


you'll never walk alone

by skittidyne



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Comfort, Gen, Team Feels, Team Fluff, Underage Drinking, Vague/Implied/Potential Manga Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 16:50:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6123067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skittidyne/pseuds/skittidyne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the match with Fukurodani, Tetsurou believes he is left with too much time to think about it all and what it means for him. </p><p>(He's wrong. His team won't let him have that time to dwell.)</p><p> </p><p>(( or: losing a match is always tough, but especially so if you are the third-year captain ))</p>
            </blockquote>





	you'll never walk alone

**Author's Note:**

> (( wh-what do you mean self-indulgent… i just wanted to write some c-cute nekoma team fl-fluff… o(TﾍTo) ))

The coaches take them out for dinner. 

It’s no surprise; they’ve done it after tournaments before, both major wins and major losses. Tonight is yakiniku, nothing new there, either. The team has been through this before. Yet this still feels indescribably  _different_. 

It’s not the fact that it’s all over. It’s not like they’ve ever come out of a tournament as the Actual Number One Top Champion, after all. It’s not even the fact that this was their last official match—although Tetsurou is starting to realize that _that_  hasn’t truly sunk in yet, and he’s fairly certain that he’s not alone in that boat. No, it’s that he’s having problems processing that they lost. 

No, not lost. 

 _Failed_.

Karasuno made it all the way to Nationals, for the first time in years. Their new coach is the grandson of that other old guy who Nekomata was always bickering with, and they had Sawamura as a captain. Not to mention Hinata Shouyou, with that freak quick and his knack for getting Kenma interested. It all just seemed so much like fate. They all had a shot of actually _doing_  this. Meeting for the first time on the Nationals stage, facing off against each other, making good on that ancient rivalry. 

And Tetsurou couldn’t bring his team that far. 

“Open,” comes a commanding voice to his right and next thing he knows, his nose is pinched closed. 

Tetsurou whines, squirms, and opens his mouth to breathe—and just gets a piece of squid shoved in his mouth. He chews around his frown and Morisuke eventually releases his nose, sitting back down with an annoyingly self-satisfied air. “Was that necessary?” Tetsurou grouses, mouth still full, just to be a brat. 

“You’re hardly eating.” 

“You don’t _always_  have to make me eat your fish.” 

“Squid isn’t a fish,” Morisuke replies and calmly resumes eating his own food. Tetsurou chews and swallows, eyeing his libero reproachfully.

Well. Not _his_  libero anymore. 

“Stop looking like that,” Nobuyuki tells him, on his other side. “You’re going to worry everyone else.” 

They’d agreed, seemingly countless months ago, to bow out with grace when the time came. The team had done their crying and wailing (in certain first-year cases) right after the game, when the wound was still fresh and raw, so now, it’s just quiet. So he’s supposed to remain the responsible, cool-headed captain, right. 

 _Bow out with grace, huh_ , Tetsurou thinks irritably, stabbing a bell pepper with a chopstick. He catches Morisuke wrinkle his nose out of his peripheral vision. _Too bad I’m not the graceful sort._

He hasn’t been able to look at either coach since Nekomata’s succinct words of comfort post-match. He dimly remembers saying something himself to the same effect—they _had_  played amazingly, everyone together—but now, his words seem lackluster in hindsight. He should’ve said more. More support, more comfort, more encouragement. He should’ve made sure everyone was okay instead of just letting Morisuke snap at Lev for his blubbering. He should’ve let Taketora hug him for longer, or calm Yuuki better, or pried Sou off of them faster—

“Open.” 

With his nose pinched shut again, Tetsurou _has_  to open his mouth after awhile, but just to be a stubborn ass, he doesn’t chew. Morisuke patiently sits there with his chopsticks in Tetsurou’s mouth, yuck, but Tetsurou is totally going to wait him out. He doesn’t need to breathe. Breathing is for wimps. (Or winners.) 

“Kuroo,” Morisuke warns, nodding his head toward the knot of first-years down the table, who are starting to stare. 

The bite tastes like mushroom and beef. Better than the squid, but Tetsurou has his pride. Well, no, he doesn’t, not anymore, but he _wants_  to act bullheaded and immature, and at least he’s trying to do it privately, without making this A Big Deal. 

“You’re going to kill him,” Nobuyuki says, just as Tetsurou gives in. He chews, shoves the food into his cheeks, and _inhales_. And ends up looking like a hamster in front of most of the team, since their attention is still on him. Peachy.

Tetsurou makes a face, pushing out his cheeks further, and Sou finally snorts back a laugh. It breaks the tension and everyone resumes their conversations and eating, attention off the third-years again. Tetsurou swallows, chokes down some water, and makes a point of scooting _away_  from Morisuke. “You don’t have to babysit me,” he says, voice low enough as to not be overheard. “I’m fine, Yaku.” 

“Even if I weren’t worried—and I am,” he says, also pitching his voice low and for that Tetsurou is incredibly grateful, “Kenma is kicking me beneath the table every time you get that look on your face. I’m trying to protect my shins here.” 

Ooh, Kenma.

They’d had a short conversation after the match, with lots of assurances that they were okay and it’d be okay and they Did Not Discuss the whole _last game as captain thing_  and there was some hand-holding, too. That had been nice. No tears, also nice. But after that, nothing else. Kenma isn’t as easy to avoid as the coaches, but Tetsurou should get a medal for trying. 

But of course Kenma would see right through the avoidance tactics. Especially with the coaches. 

“Kuroo-san, tomorrow we’re still having that thing at your house, right?” Lev asks suddenly, and Tetsurou nearly flinches at his volume. 

“Yeah, of course,” he replies, probably not as enthusiastically as he should’ve. He’s been hosting post-tournament parties for two years now, but he doubts any of them have ever felt this bitter before. 

“Oho, another high school party?” Nekomata asks with a chuckle. Nobuyuki and Tetsurou nod—it’s not like these have ever been a secret—but offer no other response. “Well, be sure to behave yourselves at least a _little_. If any of you are still hungover come Monday, don’t think I’ll take pity on you during practice.” 

“They shouldn’t be drinking at all,” Naoi sighs. “If we catch wind of _any_ of you drinking—” 

“We’ll be good,” Nobuyuki breaks in. Tetsurou is hugely thankful for his vice captain, and has been all year, but now definitely stands out as a Prime Example of why. The last thing he thinks he can deal with right now is a lecture on safety (and legality) from either coach, especially when he still hasn’t addressed the elephant in the room with them. 

But how would that even start? _Hey, Coach, sorry I talked all big about the Battle at the Trash Heap and then didn’t come through for you. Better luck next year!_  Oh, yeah,  _that_  sure improves his mood. 

This time, he hears the thump under the table. Tetsurou jerks back in time to avoid Morisuke going for his face, and catches the hand holding the chopsticks inches from his mouth. 

“I can feed myself, you know,” Tetsurou says with an, in his opinion, admirable facsimile of his usual grin. 

Morisuke doesn’t fall for it for a second. “Then actually _eat_ , captain,” he deadpans, and Tetsurou lets his wrist fall from his grip at the last word. 

That’s not his title anymore. He doesn’t deserve it, and even if he _did_ , it’s time for them to move on, anyway. Bow out with grace, let the second-years bicker over their new roles, and host the last Kuroo Tetsurou Nekoma Party tomorrow night. Wow, this gets better and better. 

But he just has to stay strong for that long. It’s no big secret he’ll be crying in private over this later, but he’s a little disappointed in himself for how _mad_  he feels, too. At the situation, at the planets aligning, at the whole fate thing, and then he tripped over the finish line. They could’ve done better. _He_  could’ve done better. 

This time, Kenma kicks _him_  under the table. Tetsurou bites back a curse and rubs at his shin. 

He starts eating his food, at least, even if he still won’t quite look the coaches or his best friend in the eye. 

 

–-

 

It’s two hours later, when he’s staring at his bedroom ceiling after his shower (and his first proper cry) that he realizes _they won’t have practice on Monday_. 

Nekomata is (in)famously lenient when it comes to certain things, and it’s the tiniest bit possible he meant that as a sort of backhanded permission for the third-years to get smashed. Sure, sometimes upperclassmen come back for a practice or two just to give out some last advice, check on their kouhai, give speeches or confessions or middle fingers on their way out the door. Tetsurou thought halfheartedly about doing something like the same. Nobuyuki hadn’t mentioned anything, but Morisuke had made an offhand remark about shaping up Lev for as long as he could. 

But, they technically don’t have practice on Monday.

It’s not as if anyone would turn them away. It’d probably be _another_  big emotional mess should he come back and have a couple last hurrahs with the team. Maybe Nekomata or Naoi would give him some last advice about playing in college, or maybe they’d ask him to talk some last sense into the team. 

He really should’ve focused more on the first-years. Or should he have committed to trying to get Kenma excited? He’d admittedly left a lot of that to Hinata after he realized the extent of their budding friendship, but they’re going to need their brain more than ever next year. He figures Tora will become the next captain, and he hopes Kenma sticks it out with him; sometimes, they butt heads even more than Tetsurou would expect. 

And who will wrangle Lev? He’s attached to Kenma and scared of Taketora, but would either of them train him properly? Sou will likely be back to being a regular, and that’s good, but he’s still rough and unpolished in the way all of their first-years are. They should’ve used Yuuki more, too, he needed more experience on the court during official matches—

His door swings open and Kenma marches into his room like he owns the place. Tetsurou bolts upright, hastily scrubbing at his eyes, and stares at him as Kenma walks over and plops down onto his bed next to him. 

“Uh,” Tetsurou says, because Kenma sure as hell isn’t saying anything, “did we switch life roles or something when I wasn’t looking?” Kenma has _never_  barged in on him. That’s _his_  job. 

“Spending the night tonight. Your mom already said it was okay,” Kenma mumbles into his comforter. 

“The party’s tomorrow night—” 

“Spending the night for that, too,” Kenma adds. He turns his head, resting his cheek on his arm, and looks up at Tetsurou through the fall of his loose hair. “Are you feeling any better now?” 

“Well.” Tetsurou runs his hand over his face again, looking up and away from his friend. “I feel a little less like death warmed over, I guess. But y’know, I always feel better after a proper shower, not those crappy gym ones.” 

“Hm.” Kenma rolls onto his side and props his head up with one hand. His hair looks damp, too, and he’s in a hoodie and sweatpants, but Tetsurou doesn’t see a phone or handheld in sight. 

He _must_  look bad. But he can’t bear to dwell on that further than he has—and not with an audience once more—so he pulls up his knee to his chest and rolls up his pajama pants. “It looks like where Fukunaga crashed into me is gonna bruise pretty bad, but it still doesn’t really hurt, so that’s lucky, right?” 

“Mmhmm.” Kenma obligingly looks at the darkening splotch on Tetsurou’s calf, but his eyes keep flickering up to his face, and Tetsurou _hates_  how he can feel his eyes on him. “…But how are you feeling?” Kenma asks. It’s pressing, but gentle, almost intimately so. 

“Ehh, you know,” Tetsurou fields with a really vague hand gesture. 

“No, I don’t. You’ve hardly spoken to me since this afternoon.” 

“It was a good match overall,” he forces out. The sentiment is true, but it still rings a little hollow. “We gave them a good run for their money. But, well, a loss is a loss and it still stings a bit. But that’s what the coach’s pity dinners and these parties are for, right?” 

“You’re allowed to be upset,” Kenma tells him. 

Tetsurou can’t help but bark out a laugh. “Oh, trust me, I _am_. But it’s just a lost match. There will be—more.” His voice catches on the last part, and shit, this is exactly what he’d been wanting to avoid. The team may be fully aware that he takes losses hard and has a kind heart beneath all of the snark and taunts, but it’s quite another thing to just let it all hang out. 

And, strangest of all, he’d wanted Kenma to see this the least. 

Kenma doesn’t say anything, but he scoots up onto his knees and tugs Tetsurou against him. Tetsurou laughs again, mixed disbelief and bitterness, and now he’s crying all over again. At least it’s silent tears, though he can’t hide the way his shoulders shake. 

Kenma’s arms come around him and he finally speaks. “There will be more matches for us, but you’re allowed to be disappointed that this was your last one.” 

“I know, I-I know,” Tetsurou replies, because he _does_ , but it doesn’t salvage his pride or temper the frustration. “I just wanted to do this for everyone. You know that.” 

“You were doing this _with_  us,” Kenma corrects. “You were leading us, but you were still part of our team, Kuro.” 

“We didn’t make it.” 

“I know.” 

“I _wanted_  to. God, I wanted to so hard, and I thought we’d make it. I thought we’d be able to beat those noisy owls, go up against the crows, and you and Chibi-chan could go at it, and Coach and their coach could go at it, and it’d be great. But we didn’t—” 

“We will next year,” Kenma gently interrupts, “for you. Because you’re all coming back to watch us, right?” 

This time, when he laughs, it’s a warmer, more relieved rumble. Kenma is rubbing small circles into his back, and those movements slow, too, as Tetsurou draws back, dry-eyed. “Nothing in the world could stop me. Same counts for Kai and Yaku, I’d bet,” Tetsurou says with a smile he actually feels. 

And Kenma smiles back at him. 

 

–-

 

“You all seem pretty overpacked,” Tetsurou says with a sneer. “Are you planning on moving in?” 

Sou and Shouhei actually have the gall to nod. “You’re saying we can’t stay over tonight?” Lev asks, already distraught at the very notion. 

Tetsurou has never once said no to a teammate staying over, especially if alcohol may be involved. But he hadn’t expected _everyone_. “Can we come in? It’s cold out here,” Morisuke says, looking ready to fight his way inside, and Tetsurou steps aside with a long-suffering sigh. 

“Kenma!” Lev squawks as soon as the group shuffles inside. He drops his sleeping back on the floor and immediately goes to scoop up the unenthused setter in a massive hug. “You weren’t answering my texts, so I thought you were in a horrible depressive slump!” 

“ _I_  wasn’t,” Kenma grumbles and Nobuyuki barely hides his laugh with a cough. 

“I can still kick you out, you know,” Tetsurou says flatly. 

He herds them all toward the guest-slash-party room—which goes about as well as herding cats would—and wonders how he’s going to ration out sleeping spaces. He has a western bed that’s big enough for two people (three if they get drunk and cozy), but not much floor space in his room. The rest get the guest room. His parents know that his teammates sometimes sleep over, and that they sometimes get rowdy at these get-togethers, but a bunch of drunk teenage boys _may_  be a bit much to handle all night. 

“Who brought the goods,” Tetsurou demands as everyone starts picking spots in the room. (He and Kenma had spent the afternoon lugging the couch in here, plus transporting two over-sized beanbags from Kenma’s house to here. Kenma had, predictably, aggressively claimed one of them as his own. Lev, just as predictably, seems to be trying to curl around him on it.) 

Taketora dumps out his backpack’s contents all over the floor; there’s a scatter of DVDs and games, plus a boxed collection of some sentai show that already looks too ridiculous to handle. Shouhei also contributes a few movies to the pile, and after several pointed looks, Kenma regrettably pushes in a few games. 

“Someone call the coin toss,” Nobuyuki says, holding up the coin.

“Heads for movies,” Morisuke says first, cutting across Lev’s shout, and that does it. 

Morisuke ends up winning, luckily, because Tetsurou isn’t sure he wants to start a bunch of teenage boys right on _Mario Party_. “Alright, Kenma gets to pick the first movie. Now, who brought the _other_  goods?” 

“Why does Kenma get to pick?” Sou whines. 

“Because Kenma cheered the captain up,” Nobuyuki answers, earning a pout from Tetsurou and a snicker from Kenma. The vice captain pushes over the pile of movies and Kenma begins sorting through them, otherwise the picture of innocence. 

“I brought vodka from Alisa,” Lev says with an audible sulk, pulling a full bottle out of his bag because his sister can't say no to him, “so I want to pick the second movie. That’s only fair!” 

“Did anyone bring any mixers?” Tetsurou asks as Morisuke pulls out a bottle of wine. 

As it turns out, their usual suppliers all brought _only_  booze, predicting a night that needed it. Tetsurou would be touched if he weren’t so _not_  looking forward to the prospect of drinking straight vodka. He couldn’t just disappear with all of the juice and soda in the house, either, lest he get in trouble with his parents, so they’re left with trying to mix things together—“Which we are _not_  doing, Lev, you are fifteen and even if you are huge and Russian you _will die_.”—or making a drink run. 

“Kuro and I will do it,” Kenma volunteers. 

There are a couple surprised sounds at that, but Kenma grabs his socks and coat and Tetsurou’s hand and drags him out the door before anyone else can offer. He barely pauses long enough to let Tetsurou grab some sandals and his wallet before tugging him out the door. 

Kenma sighs in the cool night air, breath puffing out in a little bit of fog. “So, uh, you just dragged me out of _my own house_  and left a bunch of guys with a bunch of alcohol in there,” Tetsurou points out. 

“It’s a five minute walk,” Kenma replies. 

“Too much socializing?” 

“It’s not that…” 

“Then why?” he asks, raising both eyebrows. 

Kenma frowns and scrunches up his nose in that way he does when he’s particularly offended by something. Tetsurou thinks that’s pretty unfair. “I just… thought a walk would be nice.” 

He thinks about pointing out that the night has hardly begun and surely Kenma will need more mild stress relief later on, but he figures that’s also a given. So Tetsurou just goes along with it. Hopefully they don’t burn down the house while he’s gone. Morisuke will probably keep them in line. 

Halfway to the convenience store, Kenma reaches over and gently takes Tetsurou’s hand in his. It’s not the first time he’s clung to him for warmth, but this is just their hands, and there’s something incredibly incriminating about the pink stain on Kenma’s cheeks. 

Oh. 

Tetsurou isn’t sure whether to say something or not. He’s really not sure about a lot of things right now, actually, so what’s another curve ball? 

“Is this, uh, another ‘Cheer Up Kuroo’ thing?” he finally asks, nervously, and he hopes his hand isn’t sweaty or anything because of it. 

Even in profile, Tetsurou can see when Kenma’s nose scrunches up again. “…This is a ‘Things Can Change, But It’s Okay’ thing. I guess.” 

“You guess.” 

“I _guess_ ,” Kenma repeats emphatically. 

“You know, I don’t choose the next captain,” Tetsurou says, keeping his tone carefully light. “There’s no use schmoozing with me.” 

“I don’t want to be the next captain.”

“I know, I figured you’d want to guarantee you’re out of the running.” 

“We’ll survive without you, captain,” Kenma tells him plainly. He gives his hand a little squeeze, too, to punctuate the statement. “And whoever it ends up as next year will have big shoes to fill.” 

“You know what they say about big feet—”

“ _Kuro_ ,” Kenma sighs. 

“Yeah, yeah, I got it. But I’m still going to make captain jokes until I officially graduate.” 

“…Good.” 

They reach the store, load up on soda and juice, and haul it all back. (Tetsurou ends up carrying most of it. He’s not sure why he’s surprised.) And, miracle of miracles, his house isn’t a pile of rubble when they return. They have to sprint to the guest room to ensure his parents don’t catch him, but honestly, if they don’t suspect _something_  by now, he’s going to start thinking he was adopted. No parents of Kuroo Tetsurou could be _that_  blind. 

They’ve started the movie without them, the traitors, so Tetsurou just starts throwing bottles at people before plopping down on one of the beanbags. Lev has taken Kenma’s spot, and no amount of glaring will move him, as enthralled with the movie as he is, so Kenma regretfully takes a spot next to Tora and Morisuke. 

Halfway through the second movie, Kenma has enough of Tora’s apparent enthusiasm for Marvel movies and squishes in spitefully next to Lev. Lev’s already sprawled out across half the room, so he doesn’t really register another person prodding at him. Tetsurou notices Shouhei snapping a picture of them on his phone, however, and chuckles quietly to himself. 

Tetsurou takes the hint, and after grabbing Nobuyuki for a selfie, it seems to spread. Kenma colors when he realizes what started it, and it only gets worse when Sou decides to abandon the movie (to Taketora’s loud and half-slurred irritation) in favor of taking pictures. 

And then it just reminds Tetsurou that this is their last hurrah again.  _Great_. He's getting tired of this cycle.

But before he can even begin to get all mopey and self-pitying once more, he _oofs_  twice at two very heavy lumps that throw themselves directly onto his stomach. Lev he can understand (Kenma looks overjoyed with his new space to himself), but Morisuke is a surprise. “Let’s do shots to _Mario Kart_!” Lev excitedly suggests. 

That sounds like the _worst idea_  he’s ever heard of— 

“Great idea, Lev!” Morisuke says with a beam. 

Tetsurou has definitely, _absolutely_  been dropped off in a parallel universe. Lev lets out a veritable shriek of delight and eagerly flops off of the beanbag in order to fight an unsuspecting and unprepared Yuuki for the rum. “Why are we suddenly doing shots? If anyone pukes in here you’re  _all_  cleaning it up,” Tetsurou warns. 

“Then stop looking like someone kicked your dog,” Morisuke tells him. Tetsurou tries not to frown at him. “Alright, usual rules! Drink every time Kenma wins, drink every time Lev falls off Rainbow Road, and drink every time Fukunaga gets the lightning bolt.” 

“We’re going to be dead by morning,” Tora groans dramatically, like he’s not lining up to get in the first round. 

"And let's play Kings at some point, too!" Sou exclaims, all excitement and bright eyes and flushed cheeks. 

"You guys are  _definitely_ going to be still hungover on Monday," Tetsurou says, finally laughing.

 

–-

 

Morning finds the Nekoma team in a heap sprawled across the floor. One big beanbag is completely unused, and the other only has one of Nobuyuki’s legs thrown over it. Most of the sleeping bags and the two guest futons _did_  get spread on the floor, but that’s about the extent of the preparation any of them had done. 

So it’s really no surprise that Tetsurou wakes up feeling more sore than he has in months. He was still sore from the last few matches, too, so he really must be a glutton for punishment. His bruised leg aches especially and he thinks it's beneath someone. The room is too bright—the curtains are open for some god-awful reason—so, with a small, sad moan, he wiggles over and tries to find a pillow to bury himself under. He needs something to bury his face in, that’s for sure, because his headache is ready to melt his brain out his ears, and the smallest bits of light are only making matters worse. 

He grabs the nearest soft thing and presses his face against it.

The soft thing turns out to be Sou's stomach, who wakes up with a startled shriek—and the sudden, jarring sound rouses most of the other boys with an ever-increasing crescendo of groans. 

As Tetsurou lies there and wishes for death, suddenly thankful he _doesn’t_ have to go to practice tomorrow, surrounded by complaining and whining teenaged boys, he wonders just how much he’ll miss this. 

He decides _not very much_ when Lev’s flailing manages to kick him in the spine. 

Tetsurou feels a hand grab onto his, and he blearily reopens his eyes to find Kenma, cocooned underneath two blankets and a sleeping bag, peering out at him from the darkness. Taketora loudly announces he needs the bathroom first, which starts a scuffle as Sou declares he needs to puke and Lev chases after them for the apparent hell of it. In the leftover quiet, Tetsurou scoots underneath the pile next to Kenma, and is quickly followed by Morisuke and Yuuki. 

They manage to fall back asleep together, Kenma’s fingers still laced with Tetsurou’s. 

And on Monday, the third-years proudly show up at practice with the rest of the team. They’ll stick together for a little while longer. 


End file.
